


So Noted

by artifactstorageroom3_archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-18
Updated: 2009-10-18
Packaged: 2019-06-13 03:28:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15355236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artifactstorageroom3_archivist/pseuds/artifactstorageroom3_archivist
Summary: Jim loves Blair, but can’t tell him. So he writes notes he never sends.





	So Noted

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Elaine, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Artifact Storage Room 3](https://fanlore.org/wiki/Artifact_Storage_Room_3) and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2018. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Artifact Storage Room 3’s collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/artifactstorageroom3/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** This was written in response to sentinel_thurs challenge #312 – “in print”

Jim drummed his fingers against his thigh as he stared at the rows of cards taunting him. He felt like the world’s biggest fool standing in his local Hallmark store looking for just the right card. For the hundredth time he wished he was better at talking, better at bringing things up that mattered to him.

But… he wasn’t. Oh, he’d tried, but he had bungled it up each and every time. All that he had managed to do was effectively piss Sandburg off each and every time.  He’d start off trying to express his feelings of love and fidelity and end up just plain insulting Blair because everything came out wrong.

So, back when this whole cycle started, he figured he’d go with a card. Put in nice precise letters on some mushy piece of paper. Hell, maybe he’d draw little hearts on it just to make sure the message across. Not that the last eleven cards he had purchased had actually made it to Blair.

No. 

Because James Ellison had a fear of intimacy. 

Damn, he hated that Caro was right about that. Served him right for going after the smart ones.

Grabbing the blue one with the daffodils, he headed to the checkout. The cashier smiled at him knowingly. Of the previous cards, four of them had been this exact one. He suspected that she was past his classic good looks by now, and that her smile was more one of not pissing off the creepy guy than flirting with the handsome cop.

After receiving his change, he took his card to the coffee store next door, ordered a very large latte and a donut, and started to scribble his feelings down in the neat, precise printing that years of being a police officer had instilled in him. 

He could fit a lot on the card nowadays. He knew everything he wanted to say and what order to write it in so as to maximize the amount he could fit without it looking untidy. The only thing that he allowed to be unpolished was his signature. He always signed it with big loopy letters. Sometimes he put a smiley face, sometimes he drew a heart. And when he was feeling maudlin, he drew a zoned out, stick figure sentinel about to get hit by a bus.

He only drew that when Blair had a serious girlfriend though. 

His friend wasn’t seeing anyone at the moment, so a little heart was tacked on next to the small ‘m’ that ended the “Love, Jim.” Whimsically, he drew a little bouquet of flowers next to the heart and gave it a small kiss. 

Self consciously, he glanced around to see if anybody had noticed his sentimental lapse. Satisfied that nobody had, he hastily scribbled Blair’s name and address on the envelope, sealed it and shoved the whole thing back into the paper sack from the card shop. 

He wasn’t sure why he even addressed the envelope. He knew that he wouldn’t send it, couldn’t send it. He lost that right when he’d refused to take that trip, when he’d kissed his best friend’s killer.

God, he was lucky that Sandburg still liked him. Any chance that Jim still had for a loving relationship… well he’d pissed that away, and he had to man up about it.

Glancing at his watch, Jim noticed that his coffee break was just about over. It was time to jog the few blocks back to the station.  He’d put the note away when he got home. It would get placed in a neat bundle with all its brothers and sisters then the bundle would get stored away in a box with the rest of Jim’s memories. The box used to hold the memories of his greatest failure. Now it held the memories of his two greatest failures because only Blair had earned the right to be held next to the mementoes of his marriage.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Blair cussed as he stubbed his toe on the kitchen counter. He could just hear Jim laughing and chiding him about not waiting until the last minute to do his laundry. How was he supposed to foresee the washing machine overflowing and soaking his one clean pair of socks?

Damn Jim and his preparedness. It wasn’t Blair’s fault that he wasn’t a boy scout. Naomi didn’t believe in the organization.

Damn Jim and his… Wait. Jim would have clean socks. Jim would have clean, warm socks that would be perfect to thaw out Blair’s frozen toes. And hell, it wasn’t like he didn’t have a good excuse for borrowing a pair. 

Happy with his logic, Blair dashed up the stairs and went unerringly to his friend’s sock drawer. Predictably the socks were laid out in a pattern of both thickness and color. Grabbing what appeared to be the smallest thick pair, he sat down on Jim’s neatly made bed and happily wriggled his feet into a cozy wool heaven.

He closed his eyes in bliss for a moment. They were really, really soft and warm. They had to have been a gift from somebody, probably Steven or old Mr. Ellison. There was no way that Jim had purchased them; he was the king of cotton.

Now that he had broken into Jim’s sanctuary of a bedroom he kind of felt compelled to snoop. After all he was already going to get into trouble for borrowing without asking first…

The door to the elevator down the hall creaked open, and Blair shot down the stairs so fast that he thought he left skid marks. 

“Hey, Chief.” Jim greeted with a tired voice as he came through the door.

“Rough day?” Blair asked trying not to shift from foot to foot so that Jim’s attention wouldn’t focus downwards.

“Yeah,” Jim answered with a weary smile.

“Oh, hey, the washing machine is kind of kaput. I called the repairman, but he won’t’ be able to come until tomorrow, so I was wondering if…”

“If you could borrow the socks you’re already wearing?” Jim filled in for him.

Blair smiled weakly at him in response and gave a nervous chuckle.

“Yeah, go ahead. Just remember those have to be washed by hand or they’ll shrink.”

Blair bit his lip and nodded. Although, if he shrunk the socks, they’d be his, and it wasn’t as if Jim would miss them…

“Don’t even think about it, Sandburg. Those are my socks.” Jim chided.

Blair frowned. Just when did Jim start reading his mind anyway?

“I could be persuaded to give them to you though.” Jim continued oblivious to Blair’s new train of thought.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I forgot to mail some bills today, and I didn’t fill the truck up on the way home.”

“Two errands man? You want me to do two of your errands for the price of one pair of socks?”

“One errand for each sock,” Jim replied reasonably, “and you’re getting to drive my truck.”

“Oh, because that is my dream vehicle and all,” Blair grumbled as he snatched the keys out of Jim’s outstretched palm. What could he say? They were really nice socks.

~~~~~~~

Blair shuffled through the letters before shoving them in the outgoing mail slot at the post office. While he’d never known Jim to forget to put postage on an envelope, he had a long ingrained habit of checking to make sure there was a stamp before shoving something into the mail. He’d lost out on scholarships and grants because of insufficient postage.

He was shocked when one of the envelopes came up with a naked corner with no stamp covering it.

Sighing because now he was going to have to go buy a stamp to mail it, he tugged it free from the stack and shoved the rest in the slot.

Funny, it looked like it was a greeting card. As far as he knew nobody had died recently and there were no birthdays looming on Jim’s calendar.

He was shocked to see his own name emblazoned on the face of the card. It was addressed to his office at Rainier. He wasn’t sure if he should open it or not. It could be an apology card, in which case he did so not want to open it. Jim had been on a real kick about groveling since they’d come back from the Temple of the Sentinels. He didn’t seem to get the fact that he was acting under instinctual urges, nor did he seem to get the concept that he’d been forgiven.

It could also be a card telling Blair that he needed to move out. That was, unfortunately, more likely. Jim was probably still feeling the need for space, but he wasn’t so good with conversations that communicated his needs. A card would be a more passive way of talking to him without it being a confrontation. The fact that it was addressed to his office at Rainier would guarantee that there would be a gap of time between Blair’s first reaction to the note, and his saner, more thought through response.

For a second, Blair was tempted to mail the card anyway. It would give him a few days to think about it. It wouldn’t get delivered to his office until Monday, and he could have the entire weekend to enjoy being with Jim. He could have those precious few days to pretend that it was still his home.

That was, of course, if it wasn’t just a gag card that Jim had decided to send him for the hell of it.

Shaking his head, Blair trotted through the rain back out to the truck. He’d open it out there. Then, depending on how bad the news was, he might drive around for a while and run up Jim’s mileage.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jim fidgeted as he contemplated taking Sandburg’s Volvo into the station. He’d lost Blair’s card somewhere. While he didn’t think that anybody would read it, they’d certainly ask him about it. He really didn’t want that to happen.

Of course, if Blair came home in the mean time, he’d have to explain why he’d taken off in Sandburg’s rattle trap of a car.

Thankfully, the quiet rumble of the truck’s engine purred over the sound of the rain announcing that Blair was home. It wouldn’t be difficult to breeze out of the loft on the pretense of having forgotten something at work. Once he found the note he’d calm down, come home, and they could eat dinner.

He frowned when he heard Blair’s pounding footsteps. Sandburg didn’t normally take the stairs. He also didn’t typically run down the hallway.

“You fucking bastard.” Blair announced as he slammed the door open.

Jim’s eyes flitted down to the crumpled blue in Blair’s left hand. Shit.

“I can explain.” He blurted out as panic surged through his body.

“You had better do better than that, and I mean like giving me half your sock collection and that blue flannel shirt better. And I expect dinner and back rubs and that ‘how was your day’ bullshit too, okay?”

“Okay.” Jim agreed automatically because while he didn’t get Sandburg’s logic, he was ready to agree to anything that didn’t involve maiming or death.

“Good.” Blair stated as he stared at Jim for a second before advancing on him. Grabbing a hold of both of Jim’s ears, he yanked the taller man’s head down and kissed him.

“I expect lots of sex and snuggling. I’m real big on snuggling. No treating me like a regular guy when we’re not getting it on. I expect cuddle time when we watch the Jags, but no treating me like a girl either.”

“I… You… Is that… you?” Jim stuttered.

“Yeah, Jim. It is me, and for the record, I love you too.”

  


End file.
